


Typography the Dog

by MoreHuman



Series: The Dog [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Dogs, Ficlet, Fluff and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:15:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22178404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoreHuman/pseuds/MoreHuman
Summary: Moira casts her son’s dog in a play.
Series: The Dog [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1596469
Comments: 75
Kudos: 186





	Typography the Dog

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DelphinaBoswell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelphinaBoswell/gifts).



The puppy is cute?

The puppy is divine. He has brio and elan and vim. He has presence. He has... It. He’s technically not a puppy anymore, but meddlesome facts find no sanctuary in Moira’s reality. He’ll be perfect as Toto in the off-cafeteria production of _The Wizard of Oz_ she’s casting this afternoon.

David doesn’t agree.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he says, and his only elaboration is: “No.”

Whoever taught him to compromise did a very poor job indeed.

Patrick, most predictably, has a practical objection. “I don’t think a middle school girl is going to be able to carry our 50-pound pit bull around in a basket.”

The canine in question is currently stretched across his human custodians on their couch, his head in Patrick’s lap and his posterior in David’s. (This seems like an affront, unless you know, as Moira does, that the rear is the preferred end for receiving affection.) He gazes up at Moira with eyes that communicate, clear as day, _Please, put me in a basket._

“You’ve been away from the theater too long, Patrick!” Moira despairs. “Don’t you recall how the choreography always works itself out once you get the right cast together?”

“Yes. That’s.” Patrick’s smile tightens, denoting his deepening delight at the rehearsal memories he relives often, no doubt. “Exactly how I remember it.”

“Good, then I’m sure you agree we can’t deny your protégé the same star-making opportunity.”

Patrick turns to look at David and Moira knows she’s succeeded. He’s always had a knack for bringing out her son’s best decisions. 

“Your mother wants to make my protégé a star, David. How can we say no?”

“Fine,” David relents after only a handful of neck gestures. “But there’s no audition, right? Because my dog is offer only.”

“As if I would insult a true artist like that!” Moira reaches up to soothe Janice through this painful thought. “This is just a chemistry test to find the right Dorothy.”

“Ideally one with a lot of upper body strength,” Patrick muses. “Maybe Ted can teach her to bench.”

“Typography!” Moira calls to her leading man.

“I told you,” David groans, “that we’re not doing Typography. It’s Typo.”

“His full appellation is Typography Ebenezer Rose III, and I shall not humiliate him with a trifling nickname.”

Patrick squints. “Yeah about that… full appellation. Shouldn’t there be a Brewer in there somewhere?”

“And where did ‘the third’ come from?”

“Shh, David! You know he doesn’t like to speak of his father.” Moira beckons again, “Typography, darling.”

“He’s not going to come to you,” David says. “He doesn’t know any commands.”

Moira breathes deep, filling her posture and voice with intention. “Typography, approach.”

The dog instantly hops off the couch and clicks across the living room floor to her feet.

“As usual, the only command I require is command of my instrument.” Exit line achieved, she turns to go, inviting the dog to follow with a, “Typography, attend.”

He attends.

Patrick appears next to them at the front door, reaching for a very thin leather boa dangling from a hook. “Okay, but take his leash.”

“Oh, what a magnanimous offer. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go with my outfit.”

“Just what David used to say,” Patrick laughs. “But even he can’t argue that black oxhide goes with everything. It’s from one of our vendors. Cruelty free.”

“Tell that to Typography.”

Moira watches as Patrick affixes the bébé with his abhorrent tether. She can feel the yearning for freedom emanating from beneath this thespian’s fur coat. He must tread the boards posthaste. She takes the leash from her son-in-law’s hand.

“Have fun with grandma today.” Patrick takes his puppy’s snout between his hands and kisses it. “I love you.”

“Patrick, I’m not this dog’s grandmother,” Moira says sternly. “I am his champion.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m gifting this to DelphinaBoswell, who came up with the name Typography Ebenezer Rose III and thereby made it impossible for me not to write this. But it really belongs to a whole group of brainstormers, who badgered most of these ideas into my brain. Thank you?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Typography the Dog](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28239567) by [GoLBPodfics (GodOfLaundryBaskets)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodOfLaundryBaskets/pseuds/GoLBPodfics)




End file.
